I can see inside that mind or yours,
The way it ticks and plots my death,
My slow and painful unbecoming now
Apparent to the world at large.
You haven’t told me that it’s what you plan,
I’m just a lucky one, a reader of your minds,
I see it all and know how much
You hate and wish to see me dead.
I’m sure that there are loads of mind readers out there. You may be one yourself. You may be the type of person that just knows what other people are thinking without them uttering a word. I suppose it’s body language or one of those heavy silences; whatever it is it’s powerful stuff, because I really start to believe the shit that I make up.
I’m writing today from a tiny little office that I’ve cooped myself up in because I’m scared. All I want is to be taken out of circulation because I am scared. And I don’t mind admitting that now, because understanding my issues and saying them out loud are what help me most.
Four years ago I had a breakdown and I thought that the people who I was working with wanted me dead. I was so self absorbed that I thought the end of every conversation that I caught was about me. Every time the room went quiet it was because people hated me. Every time there was a disaster it was because of me.
And I knew that people thought badly of me because I would read into their silences. I didn’t give a crap whether they had a bad day and were just quiet because they were stewing over what had happened a few minutes before I had walked in. In my mind, their silence was because they hated me. Obviously.
I’m better now, but the point is that I still have these overwhelming feelings when somebody is abnormally quiet around me, or gives me a strange look, or slams a book down too heavily for my liking.
It’s hard to be this sensitive and that’s why I’m hiding right now. But I’m also remembering all the things that could be going wrong in other peoples’ lives and I know that it’s not all about me. Fortunately.